Be Better
by Cyberbutterfly
Summary: SPOILERS FOR AVENGERS: ENDGAME! DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN. As far as Steve Rogers was concerned, today's big event was some stunt double version of himself telling him Bucky was alive before using a mind controlling devise on him. Except he didn't think this is what mind control felt like. Just a warm spot in his chest and a voice repeating endlessly in his head: Be Better.
1. Same as it Never Was

So, this is set in the alternate universe that Steve and Team create when they travel back in time. Mostly doing this because the plot bunnies are forcing me to, and Endgame really kicked me in the feels.

Not sure 100% where this is going (because lord knows I'd never actually intended to write anything in this fandom) so this is going to be as much a mystery to me as it is to those reading.

* * *

No matter what the propaganda machine, history books, and comics said (The old ones were bad, the ones after he'd been iced were impossibly worse) Steve was not perfect. Oh his body might be as close to it as possible, now, but the brain that body was attached to hadn't changed much and Steve was well aware of his faults.

He rolled over, groaning out as injuries from the battle and injuries from fighting his not-twin combined into the kind of pain that made him wish he'd simply been run over by a truck.

(Again. It had happened once, during the war. Gave him an interesting perspective on the expression, and Bucky a heart attack and ribbing material sequentially.)

So, no, he wasn't perfect.

('A moody, tempermental, stubborn little shit' had been one the Howling Commandos more insightful descriptions. Funny how **that** one never made it to print.)

Case in point, getting his backside handed to him by a Loki doppelganger and losing a damn mind controlling weapon. All because of one simple distraction.

(_Bucky is Alive..._ )

With that Steve was fully awake, and jerked himself up on unsteady feet as he gripped his chest, brain going into 1 part panic, 2 parts combat survival mode. He could still feel the warmth as the scepter touched his chest; but he didn't feel any different.

(Though, honestly, how the **hell **could he tell for sure? 'How to know your being mind controlled' wasn't part of basic training.)

Then he noticed said scepter sitting on the ground close to him. Which meant that Loki had broken free, beat him for it, and then left it sitting there for him. All nice and neat, sitting very pretty on display in the case they'd originally put it in.

(_Loki's a bag of cats. You can smell the crazy on him.)_

He'd thought Stark was crazy to. Crazy, loud, arogent, selfish, and careless. Then he saved a city by flying a bomb into a wormhole with no guarantee of a return home. Turns out crazy is the new 21st century's genius. He tapped the case with his foot.

(And jumped out of his skin when it **didn't **kill, warp around, or explode on him.)

He didn't trust it. He'd hadn't had much experience dealing with self declared 'gods' but the little he'd gathered about one in particular told him Loki had plans within plans. If he left the scepter, he left it for a reason. One that would probably bite them all in the arse later if they weren't careful.

(Best to do what had been intended all along, get it to SHIELD and let them handle any mess that came from it.)

But there was that warmth running through his chest again. And it was almost felt like a whisper in his head. And he should be scared of that voice, he shouldn't trust it. He should find the nearest SHIELD medic and tell them he was compromised, he knew that. But still, it whispered even as he argued with it.

Give it to SHIELD. (_Which SHIELD would you be giving it to? The one that brought people together, or the one wanting to detenate an entire city?)_

I can't trust this. _(Then find someone you can trust. Find the people who have proven themselves.)_

I don't know them. Not Really. (_You know 'll learn more if you try)_

This is way too big for 6 people. _(Yes it is. So get more.)_

What do you want from me? _(Be better.)_

**Be better.**

He took a breath and held it, releasing it slowly. **Be better. **That's what the warmth said. What every surge of his pulse and every heart beat thrummed to.

**Be better.**

Somehow he didn't think Loki was the type to leave that thought in his head.

And then he thought about the fight with the 'not-him'. How the man used his own tactics against him; how he used them **better**. The compass with Peggy's picture. How would Loki have known that detail? Never mind where he would have found out about it, why would he bother with that kind of nuance?

(_Bucky is alive_... Yes. That. Because, obviously, Loki spent his spare time on earth learning about Steve's best friend as a contingency in case he lost and needed to distract him long enough to regain the scepter.)

**Be better.**

Be better than what? (_Be better than me.)_

And that little whisper almost put him right back down on the floor.

Steve had spent a long time wondering about the 'what-if's'. First as a sickly kid, then as a soldier, and now as a man living out of time. He and 'what-if' were close personal friends.

So... What if?

What if that **wasn't **Loki? What if this was something else? He wasn't even going to try and figure out what it was, not now. But... What-if?

He looked down at the case, the scepter glowing softly and he started thinking about a whole new set of 'what-if's'.

**Be better than me.**

Steve snapped the case closed and picked it up. The warmth in his chest pulsed and it felt like approval.

Steve had decent instincts, a head for tactics, and an absolutely insane plan running through his head. And he had an idea who to take that to. It wasn't necessarily a good or sane idea, but it was an idea that felt right deep in that warm part of his chest. Steve had never been perfect. But he'd always tried to do the right thing.

This felt like the right thing.

(Crazy was the new 21st Century's genius, after all.)

* * *

Tony was pissed.

Sore, tired as hell, and absolutely pissed off. Loki was dust in the wind, he'd had not one but **two** near death experiences within a day, and now SHIELD was riding his ass about everything.

(Because of course this was somehow going to become_ his_ fault. Never mind they'd just tried to make the city into a _nuclear wasteland,_ or that he hadn't seen any of _their_ people stepping up to stop Loki either. Christ, at least he had a heart attack as an excuse.)

He was done. He was getting some damn food, putting a giant 'fuck off' sign on display for the entire floor, and getting himself a stiff drink or seven.

"Mr. Stark."

He was also going to up his security so that would be gods with ridiculous taste in fashion were flash fried on sight, create defensive measures so his reactor tech could never be used for anything remotely like this again, and then he was going to take a moment to question every life choice that lead to him becoming a part timer in Fury's Boy Band.

"... Dr. Stark?"

Because he wasn't sure how far he trusted a Fem Fatale (She'd stabbed him in the neck and named herself after an insect that eats males), a previously mind controlled archer (seriously, archery? Didn't that go out of style shortly after Genghis Khan?), a god of static charge (said brother to god of pain-in-the-assery), Captain Dick Head (There weren't even words. At least, none the world would approve of him slinging at a national icon.), and Jolly Green. (Okay, no bashing of the science bro. Green was a good look on him; very few people successfully pull off that much of that shade.)

Bruce spoke science and put up with being prodded, never mind proving him right by showing up just when they needed him. And it turned out Big Green was a teddy bear that caught him in mid swoon and saved his life. They could stay. Actually, he'd already decided to adopt them. He'd left a message for Pepper- complete with 'not dead, yay' confirmation- just to make it all official. Mostly so SHIELD wouldn't start to get any ideas.

(Bruce had followed him home after all. It's only fair that he gets to keep him.)

And, **dear god**, was he tired.

"TONY!"

Tony jumped in surprise and whirled around, only to be met with the person he felt least inclined to talk to. Oh joy. He pasted on his most annoying media smile.

(ain't no rest for the wicked. Money don't grow on trees. I've got bills to pay and mouths to feed, ain't nothing in this life for free...)

"Captain, my Captain! To what do I owe the misfortune? Or is it pleasure?... Whichever, after the 36 hour mark I start mixing up my metaphors."

He waited for the inevitable frown of epic disapproval. Which, okay, they'd only known about each other for a day, so he couldn't say it was a given for everything. But the safe money was on it becoming a standard feature for them.

Tony watched as Rogers face went through various expressions, none of which he was currently capable of reading on the man before it settled for what appeared to be basic confusion rather than the expected disdain. It probably wouldn't last long, but hopefully long enough for him to find out what the Good Captain wanted and get him out of here. He walked over casually until he was behind bar.

(And if he happened to be pulling the Mark VII bracelets from his pocket and snaping them back into place that was between him, JARVIS, and the whiskey. He wasn't getting the 'put on the suit, lets go a few rounds' vibe, but if that changed he probably wasn't going to get a lot of notice.)

He unscrewed the cap and brought up a couple of glasses.

"Drink?"

"Oh god, yes."

And that was him wasting a perfectly good splash of alcohol as his body jerked in shock. So he stopped, begged his exhausted mind for just a few more functioning brain cells, and looked up at Rogers.

Steven Grant Rogers... Captain America.

Captain America. Who somehow managed to look even more beat up than the last time Tony had saw him and was absently rubbing the center of his chest like he was queuing up for the next heart condition.

Steve Rogers. Who also had possibly the ghost of what might at one point have been a half smile. Which meant he'd wanted to get a reaction out of him. The bastard. But, okay, one point to The Man with The Plan.

Cap. Who... was holding a case... A case that looked remarkably like the one he'd seen a group of SHIELD agents walking away with. A case that was now gingerly being placed on the bar as the man took the offered drink.

Steve. Who was looking at him, looking at the case, with a facial expression set between grim determination and kid with hand caught in cookie jar.

Tony took his own drink and tapped on the top.

"So... This is-"

"-The scepter? Yeah."

He hummed. He tried not to give anything away with it. Mostly because he had no idea what the hell was happening. Seriously. Either his brain cells had abandoned him, or he was so far out of his realm of rational that they refused to create a hypothesis. He hummed again.

"And you and it are here because-?"

He took a sip of his drink.

"Is there any way you can create a good enough copy to give to SHIELD so they don't suspect we have this one?"

And then promptly choked it back up.

"Wait... What?!"

* * *

Thoughts, comments, and constructive critiques are always welcome.


	2. Once More with Feeling

NOTES: So... Show of hands anyone who's reflected on the MCU as a whole and gone "Wow. All these characters are flaming hot messes of PTSD, Trauma, and Emotional Constipation."... While I don't completely label this as a 'fit-it' story (because they are still going to be the same idiots, coming from the same perspectives as they do in the original universe) I DO consider it somewhat of a 'What-if'. Mostly a 'What if something actually forced these people to talk'.

Also... **NO**\- going back and showing previous chapter sections from a different POV isn't going to be a regular things. But I really need to show just how bad of a headspace these two idiots are in. Also, it's sometimes interesting to see the different reactions to the same moment. So, expect this to happen occasionally.

* * *

"Captain, my Captain! To what do I owe the misfortune? Or is it pleasure?... Whichever, after the 36 hour mark I start mixing up my metaphors."

In one aspect it was an amazing thing to watch. He'd come in to see Stark wandering around, gesturing away to an internal dialogue and radiating a kind of utterly exhausted, manic hyperactivity that Steve hadn't known was possible up to that point.

(But it had been open, and amusing, and... honest. A look at the man behind the pomp and circumstance.)

But it all changed the minute Stark realized who was calling him. His body went rigid then immediately changed with the roll of a shoulder like the worlds most twisted magic trick. A pivot of the foot and a smile that hinted 'welcome' and screamed 'fuck off'- and it was back to the dog and pony show.

Part of him wanted to growl, because Steve's brain strangled the flight part of the fight or flight response years ago and fighting was almost easier than breathing at this point. That part wanted to grab Stark, put him up against the nearest wall, and demand to know what his problem was.

(Because they had been **good**\- damn it- fighting Loki. They'd fallen into rhythm naturally, like they'd been fighting back to back for years. There had been a- rightness- to it that made Steve believe maybe his continued existence wasn't pointless. And now Stark was ripping that away from him like it was worthless.)

That was quickly followed by the part curious to learn just what exactly about his existence seemed to piss off Stark so much; chased by the apathy of the frustrated, and the resolution of the desperate to get this done because there was something _aching_ in the voice telling him **be better**. He took a breath and re-focused.

Just in time to see Stark attempt to subtly snap the suits interface cuffs around his wrist.

Steve froze, then scrambled as he wondered just what the hell was going on. It wasn't an attack move; you don't create points of separation and distance for a strike. Which meant it was a defensive tactic... And that meant...It meant that Stark was scared enough to armor up _in his own home_.

(And it was like hitting ice and drowning all over again; cold blackness surrounding him until he doesn't know up from down. Water in the lungs and, god, please just let him breath while it took _hours_ to die.)

"Drink?"

Spoken so smoothly; a perfectly crafted knife.

(until you noticed the slight hand tremor; how the glasses hit the counter with just slightly to much force like he wanted to be done and gone... And Jesus, had** he** somehow done this?)

"Oh god, yes."

Stark actually flinched, hard, like he'd been struck. And now the ice was gone, replaced by acid- burning it's way through his chest as he frantically wondered where this had gone so wrong.

(And the voice snarled **'Liar',** because it knew... _"Big man in a suit of armor, take that off and what are you?... I know guys with none of that worth ten of you"... _That's what he did, wasn't it? He fought. Made sure he wouldn't just win this fight but every one after it. Went for the throat and now Stark was bleeding out in front of him.)

He tried to smile, for all the good it could accomplish. A sad, broken, caustic mix of regret and apology desperately aiming to be an olive branch and probably failing miserably. Definitely was, considering the way Stark was still just looking at him.

Until he wasn't.

And Steve followed his eye line to the case in his hand and almost jerked in surprise.

(He'd forgotten about it. The damn thing that had started all of this, and he'd just... forgotten it.)

But now it had Stark's undivided attention and Steve wanted to walk away and let the man be. But that only made the acid in his chest worse. And he'd had enough time on the way here to truly reflect on the implication of things. This was a job that had to be done. So he tentatively walked over and put the case on the bar.

(And he waited, letting Stark make his own judgment on how this went down. Because that case sitting here was the embodiment of mutually assured destruction. This worked by agreement, or not at all.)

Mercifully he didn't have to wait long.

"So... This is-"

"-The scepter? Yeah."

Stark hummed, so perfectly monotone that it cut. He didn't know if that meant he was dismissed, whether he was supposed to continue, or if Stark was just waiting to see how much Steve could squirm.

"And you and it are here because-?"

And there might not be anything salvageable here, but he was too far in it now to back down.

"Is there any way you can create a good enough copy to give to SHIELD so they don't suspect we have this one?"

And then Stark started to choke.

* * *

Tony was dying. _Again_. Right here, right now, he was going to choke to death and his only witness was going to be the man who caused it. Fortunately Rogers backed the hell up when Tony waved him off after realizing he was about to do something utterly stupid like pound his back.

(Which wasn't medically recommended and, anyway, he was in no hurry to experience what it felt like to be slapped by a super soldier when his back was already one bruised mass from his earlier assisted pre- launch out the window.)

Plus side, it gave him time to think without having to say anything. So Tony focused on getting actual air into his lungs, his shit together, and working the angles.

Fact 1- Steve Rogers had gone from 'let SHIELD handle this' to 'Reservoir Dogs' in less than an hour. (So, the man was bi-polar. Would have been useful to know earlier.)

Fact 2- Steve Rogers thought Tony would be willing to help him. (Okay, smart money. Super secret organizations gave him hives.)

Fact 3- Steve Rogers was trusting him with this... (And, that's where hard angles went soft. There are some things that just don't compute.)

"Not that I don't find this about- face fascinating, but would you mind filling me in on the 'how and why' of this situation."

Rogers took a breath and let it out in a sigh. He was taking a minute, but Tony didn't feel like rushing this. The guy had something on his mind, and for once Tony actually wanted to hear it.

(It might turn out to be absolute bullshit, but color him curious anyway.)

"The helicarrier had rooms- not **a** room,** rooms- **full of stored weapons. Weapons that looked damn close to the kind we were pulling from Hydra back in '42... Now, maybe Fury believes what he was trying to sell us. And, yeah, I do know you don't win a knock down fight by saying 'Can't we all just get along'... But, I also know the difference between being prepared and stockpiling. You make plans and set a few things aside to prepare; you only have warehouses full of weapons when you intend to **start** a fight."

It shouldn't feel this good to hear those words coming out of Rogers mouth. Because no one listened when he said them, but maybe they would if American Beauty here spoke up. (Because just him was never going to be enough and he'd become so damn tired of people telling him he was paranoid. It isn't paranoia if you're right.)

"They launched a bomb, Stark- a _nuclear weapon_. They attacked with no guarantee that it would have any effect on the invasion force; because for all anyone knew they'd just shrug off that kind of heat and radiation... They called in a strike where the only certain casualties were our own. That's not containment, that's genocide. And now these people expect us to just hand over a confirmed mind control device?!... _Fuck. That._"

And really, he knew his first reaction shouldn't be to want to ask 'Jesus, are you actually _allowed_ to swear while wearing the tights?', because** so** not the time. But at some passed point he'd maybe started to believe that all the suspicion was just him. That he'd gotten so badly rewired that he just couldn't recognize friend from foe anymore. But somewhere during the speech, while Tony was standing there and listening as Rogers brought up every sour point that had been running around his head, he'd just phased out.

(Not only was he speechless, he was also tempted to do something ridiculous like saluteRogers. So, yeah, hope the devil owned a pair of skates.)

But as moving as this was, it only answered the 'why' part question.

"Okay... So points for seeing the obvious, but I'm still not connecting the dots between you coming to that realization and you getting the case. I mean, I can't imagine you just walked up saying 'Hey guys, change of plans'- so, is there a bunch of unconscious or dead agents in a closet somewhere I should be aware of?... Please don't say 'dead'- because we are definitely**not** at the 'help move bodies' stage of our relationship."

Tony watched as Steve blinked in confusion and then seemed to realize what he was asking

"What?! God... No! No I did not kill anyone." Rogers took a breath. "When I heard Loki had escaped, I started making my way back to your location. On my way I ran into... me. And I was carrying the case."

Tony blinked.

"You... Ran into... You?" Tony took a moment to reflect that this was his life now before coming to the natural conclusion. "You mean, you ran into Loki disguised as you?"

Rogers shook his head hesitantly.

"I don't think so... " He took another deep breath. "Look, I know this sounds crazy, but I don't think it was Loki. First of all, it makes no sense for Loki to knock me out only to leave the case with me-"

"-Wait, this version of you K.O.'d you? Jesus, Cap, are you okay?"

"Huh?"

Rogers actually seemed confused that he would worry. (Which, come on, even he wasn't capable of being that much of a dick. But nice to know just how low the bar was Rogers set for him.) Either way the soldier rallied fast, and he waved away the concern.

"I'm fine, had plenty worse... The point is, why leave the case? And there's smaller things to, like, his fighting style. He knew all my moves before I made them. He also knew things I can't imagine Loki ever taking the time to learn... I think, there was something else going on... I think, that it was actually **me**, or at least a version of it."

The Captain offered him a self-conscious smile.

"And, yes, I know how that sounds, but I'd like to think I'm a good judge of when someone's copying me and what's authentic... Just please don't ask me what the hell that other me was doing; I haven't figured that part out yet."

Tony absently started tapping the reactor. He wanted to argue with Rogers, but that was mostly just because it was his go to response with Rogers. And the man was right, it made no sense for Loki to take and then leave behind the scepter. This was starting to feel much bigger.

(The kind of big he saw in that portal. All that empty void filled because they had brought an **invasion fleet.** He might be a big man on Earth, but god had he felt small up in space. Nothing like a little perspective to realize how insignificant you really were.)

Fortunately, before he could spiral too far JARVIS piped up.

"Sir, if I may. I've analyzed camera feeds from the time line in question. I can confirm a copy of Captain Rogers entering the same elevator as Agent Sitwell and his team. A few minutes later, he exited on another floor, case in hand. As Agent Sitwell is now assisting in SHIELDs search for Loki, it appears the exchange happened peacefully. I am unable to supply any information about the confrontation between the Captain and his double as it took place in an un-monitored portion of the facility."

Tony bit back a smile as Rogers jumped and looked around for the disembodied voice; it was a pretty standard reaction to meeting his boy for the first time. He waved a hand.

"Not actually the voice of God, just something better... Steve Rogers meet JARVIS, my integrated artificial intelligence system, JARIVS meet Captain Steve Rogers."

"A pleasure to formally meet you, Captain."

"Um... Likewise, Jarvis."

So, the stunned awe Rogers radiated was kind of adorable, but not really the primary point right now. Tony tapped the reactor some more as he stared at Rogers.

"So... Bets on Loki strolling up to a high-strung, fully armed SHIELD team and simply asking for the case." The only response Rogers gave was a snort. Tony huffed a laugh. "Yeah, I'm not buying it either... But **you **were clearly convincing."

Rogers frowned.

"Yes... yes, I was."

Tony hummed. He really hated not having all the variables to play with. Still, he could only work with what they had, and right now what he had was a scepter on his bar. He tapped the top of it.

"How long have **you you** had this?"

"Maybe 20 minutes at the most."

"JARVIS is Sitwell still in the building?"

"Yes, although his team had begun to do sweeps outside the building."

Tony snorted.

"Yeah, good luck with that. Loki's gone. If he's smart, he's in another galaxy by now."

So, now he had his answers. And about a thousand more added on top. Still, the main issue took precedent. Which begged the next question, did he want to play 'Spy vs Spy' with Rogers?... He was shocked when he realized the answer to that was, yes. There was too much here for him to walk away. He needed to know.

(Still no rest for the wicked, he just couldn't believe who might be riding shotgun. Besides, Rogers was going to need his tech and money; probably why the man had picked him as the go to in the first place.)

So now it was time to let out the inner asshole and give Rogers a push. Because while this felt too crazy to be anything but genuine, and the patriotic boy scout earned some points with the speech, at the end of the day it was going to be Tony's shoulders carrying the weight.

(This was dangerous. This wasn't him telling a Senate hearing to go screw themselves kind of reckless. This was potentially 'Kiss SI and Friends goodbye and prepared to be crucified' levels of trouble. He was 100% positive Rogers didn't understand that.)

"Alright Cap, since you were already preaching to the converted, I'll form up. You got the case from Rogers 2.0 and want to keep it; _good for you_." He motioned between the two of them. "But what you're asking to do here... SHIELD isn't just going slap us on the wrist, or make you drop and give them fifty if they find out. These peoples**secrets** have secrets, as well as some damn deep holes to throw unwanted pests into."

He stepped closer, right into Rogers space, really driving the point home just to see what he'd do with it.

"For all your war experience, you've _never_ played in the kind of field they operate in, so you don't know how messy it gets if this goes south. Which means when it does, it's going to come down on **me**. So what I want from you, right here, right now is the solid promise that, no matter what shit comes down, you will have my back. Because if I do this for you, only to have you turn tail and run because it gets rough, I will hunt you down and burn and salt the earth at your feet... So... Look me in the eye and tell me. Can.** I**. Trust. _You_?"

He could actually hear Rogers swallow in the consuming silence. Which, yeah, he'd probably laid it on a bit thick. But better over- aware than under.

(Ignorance was never bliss. It was a cave in the desert with the taste of metal in his mouth and water in his lungs... It was a man dying in his arms telling him to be better.)

And Rogers surprised him for a second time by actually looking to the side and taking some time to think about his response. When he looked back, it was to nod.

"You can trust me. I know it will take time to prove that, but, you can ... Whatever happens, we're in this together."

Tony searched his eyes, looking for the lie. He didn't find it. (And there was no way in hell he was unpacking what he did find right now because there was shit to do. But, damn, did Cap have an impressive 100 yard stare.) He stepped back and cleared his throat.

"Right..." Then he gave himself a shake pushing everything to the side. Which, yeah, it was time to lighten things a bit, he slapped Rogers on the shoulder... "Great. Good talk." He turned, clapping his hands.

"Okay, J buddy, I want you to do a full spectral sweep of all the floors where we still have functioning sensors. Use the scans of the Tesseract's energy signature and look for any similar wavelengths. Report all findings back, and make sure SHIELD gets a copy of the results. Make sure to be **very** thorough." He waved around the space. "Just not too thorough locally. No point in wasting energy, I'm sure Cap and me would have noticed if Loki waltzed in with scepter in hand."

"I suspect the helmet with 2 foot horns would be a blatant give-away. What protocol shall I file this under?" His Pride and Joy new him so well. Tony gave his AI **the **smile; it packed a lot of teeth and promise. "We're going for the full monty- 'Rich Protocol, A113' is in effect- Black Out priority. The only people cleared for now are us. Might bring others in, but I want to maintain plausible deniability at present."

"Rich Protocol activated."

Rogers was looking at him head tilted slightly in a way that reminded him of a golden retriever.

"What's Rich Protocol?"

He waved a hand while removing the scepter from the case and snapping it back closed.

"Just names vague enough to not give away much. It means, as of now, we're going on the defensive and dark." He waved the staff. "And to answer your original question- N**o**, I can't build a replica... I'm flattered at your sudden faith in my abilities, but with the time frame we're working with, I'd be hard pressed to create a convincing Cos Play version never mind something that would fool SHIELD... Which means we are going to use Loki to our advantage and change up the narrative."

A sudden thought occurred to him.

"J, sort out all the operational camera feeds; dump everything from Loki being captured to Rogers showing up here into the Rich file, we'll sort out the usable material later. Then scrub all other feed data from the server. Tower got banged to hell, so selling it as a by-product shouldn't be difficult."

"Transferring now."

He turned to Rogers offering him the empty case. After a seconds hesitation he took it. Tony smiled wryly.

"Time to brush up on your stage performance skills, Cap. Way I see it, we keep to a story people won't question. You bumped into Loki, he ran off with the scepter. You checked in with me first to see if I had a lead on where Loki might have gone, then left to deliver the bad news personally."

"Makes sense. But I still don't know how other me got the case in the first place. Sitwell starts asking the wrong questions this goes downhill fast."

"Use the force, Luke."

Rogers leveled him with an unimpressed stare and Tony rolled his eyes. That settled it, at some point he was forcing the man to sit down and watch a few damn movies.

(And, no, it wasn't because of that small annoying part of his inner child that still wanted Captain America to like him. No, this was for communication purposes and to get Rogers caught up on a few decades of missed material. That's it.)

"You've got instincts Cap... Use them!...You've actually got options." He held up one finger. "Plan A- you play off the version of you Sitwell talked to was Loki. Not a hard sell, saves you having to pretend you know what went down in the elevator. Down side is you close out any chance of finding out what happened in the elevator." He held up a second finger. "Plan B is more risky. You act like it **was **you in the elevator. It's a lot harder of a sell, and you'll be going in blind, but it's the best chance of finding out how other you got the case."

"What would you do? If you were talking to him, which option would you pick?"

Tony blinked then shook off the surprise of being asked.

"Plan B... But I know how to read people and play off their tells to sound legit even when most of what I'm spouting is bullshit." He shrugged. "Only way I survived in the corporate world. Or, you know, just _survived_... But it's not me walking into this."

Tony paused for a moment. Tried to think like someone who didn't have his experience but the same suicidal level of determination.

"Right... If you go for plan B, my advice is to not say more than you have to. Play up the anger factor with losing the scepter and keep the focus on Loki and what they're doing about it. Keep your answers vague and let Sitwell fill in the blanks. If he starts asking specific questions, let him lead you and follow the narrative he's writing in his head."

"That's... Actually pretty good advice."

Rogers genuinely sounded shocked. (Like somehow the idea that Tony could be an intelligent, decent human being was a revelation. And Tony was just too tired to smile and play the role right now.)

Okay, Rogers might not have meant it like that, but did he really think Tony would be okay with letting him flap in the wind, or that he would just dismiss his questions?

("_You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero."_ And he stomped down on that little gem, because also not the time. He knew all the blood he had on his hands, thank you very much. But it was good. A reminder of where they actually stood.)

"Gee, thanks, Cap. Good to know those 7 PhD's are finally showing some traction."

The frown of epic disapproval was back. (But, hey, almost an entire conversation without it; new record.) Rogers looked like he had something to say, and Tony was pretty sure he didn't have an interest in hearing it. So he pointed at the case.

"Tick-tock, Frosty. The longer you take getting that to Sitwell, the harder the questions are going to get."

Rogers just looked at him for a minute, sighed heavily, (like somehow his life would've been so much easier without Tony in it) nodded, and walked off.

Tony waited until the man was gone before looking down at the scepter. His hands shook slightly at the thought of that thing sitting in his house. He didn't like holding it, much less the idea of keeping it.

(_But how will they have time for me when they are so busy fighting you... _There weren't words to describe what it felt like when that thing touched his chest. The absolute horror of wondering if he was about to be undone; the fear of how much more blood he'd have on his hands. The arc reactor was a bit of a love/hate relationship for him, but he'd never loved it more than when the scepter touched it and nothing happened.)

"JARVIS."

"Sir?"

"I want this thing on lock-down. What have we got on hand good enough to use as a containment unit?"

* * *

As always thoughts, comments, and constructive critique are always welcome.


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